Double Dose (M/mf)
Copyright: KayleyBlue, 2008
All disclaimers apply. Over 18.
Ashley was sobbing in the kitchen. Alex, as busily as he tried to make himself by playing “Need for Speed” on his computer, still fought the dreadful feeling that the evening would end with him being in trouble too.
His sister had been late before. Tonight, however, his mother’s eyes were red from crying; his Dad had paced around the room for two hours until Ashley got home. They had called all the neighbors and Ashley’s friends to ask about her whereabouts and no one had a clue. Alex, who had a vague idea, played dumb and hoped that she – and he, as well – would get away with it.
“Alex!” The doctor’s voice boomed through the walls of the kitchen, through the closed door. “Come here right now.”
He saved his game, took his time. No point in hurrying towards certain death. His Dad would wait about ten seconds before calling again and then he would come himself to get him, take out his belt, and whack him a dozen times before inviting him again for a short chat in the kitchen. The boy was not interested in finding out if the scene would repeat itself again in the same sequence.
His Mom was torn; sitting on a kitchen stool, with a paper towel to her nose, she looked as if the most horrible thing had happened to her kids. He didn’t care. Next to her, a very apprehensive Ashley was fighting her drunken moves, trying to sober up. “Too late”, Alex though. He knew how that felt. His father, Jack, had already started to unbuckle his belt when Alex came through the kitchen door. No way out this time. No excuses, no nothing. She had ratted him out. Alex stared at his sister in an attempt to catch her look, to warn her to shut up, to promise her the beating of her life as payment for telling on him. She didn’t even look at him, however. She was looking at everything and everyone but him.
The belt slid out of the loops whooshing and snapping.
“Did you know where she was,” Jack asked, more for the sake of it; they were all aware that Ashley was telling the truth.
Alex eyed his sister. She had spilled the beans on him only to get herself out of trouble. “More or less,” he said. A straight forward answer would have had the same effect; Jack folded the belt.
“Did you buy her drinks for her little party, knowing that she is thirteen?”
His mother started crying again and Alex felt like shouting “Shut the fuck up, woman, I’m trying to think! No one has fucking died!” Instead, he frowned at the cherry-brown parquet
Now Jack would grab his arm and spank the daylights out of him. But Jack paused again, only to ask the incriminating question:
“How did you buy the liquor?”
The boy had been prepared for the first two questions. The anxiety had paralyzed his brain as he had not anticipated this one.
“Alex? How did you buy the liquor? From where and with what?”
“From some place close to school…”
“Do you have something to give me?”
Alex paused. Yeah, a fake ID. He didn’t say it, just walked out of the room, to his school bag, searched deep inside one of its pockets, between books and notebooks, and returned with the ID in his hand.
The doorbell rang. It was Rose, his grandmother, who had succeeded in squeezing out the news about Ashley’s going missing and had come by to ease down her own grieves and worries. Alex’s hopes of getting away with the crime suddenly increased. Until -
“Clara, please get the door. It’s probably your mother,” Jack said, without looking at his wife. “I don’t want your mother in here, poking her nose into my business.”
“She is worried,” his mother said, leaving the room. “I think she has the right to be worried about her grandchildren?”
“She certainly has. But she has no right to put her nose into how I educate my kids. She can sit all she wants in the living room, but not in this room,” Jack added, before his wife closed the door. Jack threw the fake ID on the counter.
“Ashley, get your nose into that corner, young lady,” he said to his sniffling daughter. She slumbered towards the appointed place, rubbing her drunken red eyes with her sleeve. Tears were dripping from her nose to the floor. Alex was not sorry for her; She had promised not to tell and she had broke her promise. Now he was about to get spanked with his grandmother in the other room and his sister in the same room with him. He was sure his Dad will spare Ashley the shame of being spanked in front of him. She was lucky.
“You,” Jack raised the belt to point to the counter, “jeans and boxers down, hands on the counter.”
The latest trend allowed Alex to unbuckle only his first two buttons before his oversized jeans dropped to his ankles. He hooked his thumbs into the elastic of his boxers and slid them down to his knees.
“Hands on the counter,” Jack said again. On the man’s face not a muscle moved. Alex obeyed, fear flickering in his green eyes. Sometimes it was safer not to argue about punishments or any other controversial issues with Jack. Tonight was one of those ‘sometimes’ days. Both Ashley and Alex knew it. Clara knew it and by the looks of it, Rose, his indulgent grandmother, also knew it. The living room was as silent as a tomb.
“Eyes forward, to the wall,” Jack said, and Alex obeyed. He kind of heard his sister sobbing, shuffling her feet in her corner. The seconds between this and the first crack of the belt seemed to have diluted into an eternity. His mind grew aware of what was to follow, of what he felt, of his position, of what he did. He wondered if he would cry. He hoped not. He wondered if he would beg for his father to stop – he certainly would not, not with his sister there, not with his grandmother in the other room.
His cheeks exploded with pain when the crack of the belt echoed in the room. He blinked away the tears of fear. It was going to be bad. It was going to hurt a lot. And the punishment would most certainly take forever.
The fury of the blows stunned his mind. Each blow pushed his body forward, towards the counter, and as he was bringing it back, another blow was resending waves of pain to his mind. At the beginning, when the belt was coming down hard, every three or four seconds, he had time to recompose himself after each blow. But as Jack’s fury mounted, so did the fury of the belt. Alex hid his face into his arm, pushed his forehead against the cold feeling of the wall, stared stubbornly at a yellow spot on the cabinet; his nails scratched at the counter’s smooth surface. He stood on his tiptoes, his knees buckled, he twisted. In the end, he cried. He moved away from the path of the falling belt. Jack grabbed his arm again, without a word, ignoring Alex’s pleads, forced his torso back down onto the counter. The belt began to build a steady painful fire into the boy’s upper legs. The cries became incoherent mumbles.
He remembered his Mom coming in and pleading with Jack to stop. The boy had turned his eyes towards her, begging. He never did that during a spanking; he always did it before. Jack ushered her out though and went back to his unfinished job, building a few more remarkable welts on Alex’s sit spot. A few rather purple marks had started showing when he stopped. He removed his hand from Alex’s back but the kid remained there, twisted over the counter, sobbing.
“If there is a next time, I’ll turn your legs crimson too,” the man said. The words sent chills up Alex’s spine. He could recognize Jack’s behavior, but the coldness did not resemble Jack at all.
“I’m sorry…” – he sobbed again, wiping his runny nose on his already wet sleeve.
Without a word to his son, Jack wiped his forehead, rearranged his shirt’s cuffs, and turned to Ashley: “You, next. Jeans down, panties down, bend over the table.” Ashley remained in the corner. She was already crying, as if it had been her getting the thrashing of her life.
Jack span her towards him, belt in his hand still, and began unzipping her tight jeans.
“Daddy, don’t spank meeee...” She became even more hysterical when she caught a glimpse of Alex’s damaged rear. She pulled back, pushing Jack’s hands aside, in a futile attempt to escape. Jack ignored her even when she slapped his hands. Her jeans and panties at her ankles, she still tried to pull them up. “Stop the fuss. Ashley!” He shook her by the arm as he marched her unwilling ass towards the table. She was still drunk, by the looks of it. At some point she even twisted trying to bite Jack’s hand. Jack’s nerves exploded. The belt cracked loudly against her legs and bottom.
“You do not fight me, young lady. And you most certainly don’t bite me.” Before she had reached the table she had managed to get her ass slapped at least four times, Alex had counted. The boy was still fumbling will pulling up his pants, but the scene had taken his mind away from the soaring pain in his own bottom.
Ashley’s whines went on: “Daddy, don’t…”
Over the table she went, with both her hands locked in the small of her back by Jack’s firm grip. The show started. If Jack didn’t feel the need to lecture Alex on his misbehaving, his speech was quite impressive when it came to Ashley’s crimes. “You don’t throw tantrums, you hear me?” She moved frantically and only the jeans huddled at her ankles stopped her feet from flying in the air.
All this before he’s even started, Alex though. He wondered how long it would take her to give up the fight.
“You don’t drink alcohol. You don’t go to parties without our approval. And you don’t stay past your curfew time. Do I make myself clear?”
She promised to behave, she swore never to touch alcohol again; she would never be late again; she’d never go anywhere without asking her parents first. She dissolved into tears before she had gotten a quarter of what Alex had gotten. Soon Jack let go of her, stood back, and watched her. Her mouth wide open, saliva dripping out onto the table, she wailed as if she had been cut into pieces.
“Alright, get up,” Jack said. He was also panting and rivulets of perspiration ran down his temples. “We’ll have a talk tomorrow, both of you. And with you, Ashley, I am most certainly not done. You are still drunk.” He stood her up and helped her pull up her underwear and pants, leaving them unzipped. “Clara!” - he called and the woman appeared in the room immediately.
She’s been waiting at the door all this time, Alex thought.
“Can you please help Ashley get to bed?”
Alex watched his mother shushing Ashley, wiping her eyes and nose. She gave Alex a troubled look, as if she wished she could help him too.
“Alex,” Jack said, moving in front of his son. “Look at me.”
The boy wiped his mouth with his sleeve nervously. He looked into his Dad’s dark eyes.
“What went through your mind when you did this to your sister? And what went through your mind when you got that fake ID?”
The kid shrugged his shoulders. He feared his Dad’s lectures as much as the actual spankings. The shame made him feel small again. “I’m sorry,” was all he could whisper.
“I thought I could trust you. I’m really disappointed in you.”
The pressure in Alex’s sinuses began to build again.
“Dad, it won’t happen again. I swear it won’t.”
Jack shook his head at him and sighed.
“Just go to bed.”
“Dad, please,” Alex begged.
“Go, I said.”
Alex turned slowly to the door. “I’m sorry,” he said again. He really meant it. Right now he just wished he could take everything back. He also wished he could sleep at night. But his guilt and remorse would not let him. He knew that for sure.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Double Dose (M/mf)